Cry For a Friend
by bFishstix
Summary: Here’s a short story about a little boy who always gets beaten by his parents, and he wishes he wasn’t even here on earth. Then one day at school, the eighth graders went and read to the second graders. Matt McGuire plays a role model on this little kids’


NOTE- Hope you enjoy this short story. I don't care if I made any grammar errors. I'll learn from them. Just please read and tell me what you think of this, okay? Thanks. - Here's a short story about a little boy who always gets beaten by his parents, and he wishes he wasn't even here on earth. Then one day at school, the eighth graders went and read to the second graders. Matt McGuire plays a role model on this little kids' life. (MATT'S P.O.V)

**CRY FOR A FRIEND**

**He was just thrown down the steps, by some kids at school. He cried and ran to the teacher and explained what happened, and they said that they don't care. They also said that he would get over it.**

**His name was Phil Finch. He was only eight years old and in second grade. He had brown hair and pretty blue eyes. He has four sisters, two stepbrothers, one stepfather and one biological mother. He's the cutest and nicest boy someone would ever meet. You will be pleased to have him in your life. But his siblings and parents didn't care for him or love him, so they started beating him. They do not give him food. He has to find food out of the trash. Sometimes he doesn't even get to eat. He was getting thinner every day. He only had a few clothes. They also wouldn't even buy him anything, from toys to clothes. Nothing. Zip!**

**He was walking home from school in the rain, and trying to keep warm and dry, with his thin jacket that he had on.**

**Plus his family was a poor family, so they didn't but anything; they go to a free store. At school some certain teachers would give him lunch money, and he liked them as a friend, but he still doesn't have friends his own age. He can't run around and have fun.**

**He looked as if he was going to cry, and he said to himself, "I wish I would just die." Then he stared out the window and cried and wishing that he had a better life. "I wish that I could get put up for adoption." He even wished on shooting stars to wish that could come true, one day.**

**He would ask everyone if they weren't so mean to him,**

**"Do you feel sorry for me? Do you know if you do? Have you ever seen my life? Have you ever got beaten? Have you ever had really mean parents? Two more questions: Do you think my life is rough? And do you really feel sorry for me? Because if you do, that means you care and you hate to see people get neglected. I hope you will be my friend. I really hope you will stay by my side, to give advice and be best friends forever!"**

Walking home from school, Phil and I were laughing and joking around. We were talking about bugs and other gross stuff. He's like a brother to me. I can't believe that his parents and his siblings want to mistreat him. That's just mean and sad.

Then Phil seen the ice cream shop and begged me to buy him one, so I said yes.

It was so blazing hot outside that his ice cream started to melt, and it was so cute how he tried to lick the ice cream off hands.

"Here. Want some help with that?" I asked as I grabbed some paper towels and wiped his hands dry.

"Thank you, Mattie." He said with a grin on his face.

We started to head across the street and that's when he stopped and held his hand out.

"What? You want me to hold your hand while we cross?"

"Yes. It's safe."

"Okay, but how about I put you up on my shoulders instead?"

He shrugged, "Anyway."

I picked him and went to his house. I didn't go inside, but I just stood at the end of the driveway. He ran back to me and cried. "I do not want to go in there. It's scary." He buried his face in my jacket.

I started to get tears in my eyes. "I know, but you have to. If something happens, just call me and I'll be right over." I didn't want to let him go either.

"Well, I've got to get home, little fellow. My parents are probably worried about me."

"Okay, but you have to promise me that you will come back tomorrow."

"I will. I always do."

He waved his little hand while he was walking down the sidewalk and then inside he goes.

I was curious what they do to him, so I went to a window and looked in it. I couldn't believe what I seen. His siblings had him by the neck and threw him down on the floor. Phil was crying. Then they picked him up and started hitting him with a metal chair. I felt sorry for him. I wanted to go in there and say stop, but I couldn't because I was too scared. I wanted to run and get help, but I was too scared. I didn't want to see any more, so I walked off and to home.

Dinner came and my parents, sister, and I were all at the table. I wasn't eating at all. I was just playing in it.

Mom said, "Matt, why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry right now." I answered in a low voice.

"Are you sick?" Dad asked.

"No, I not sick."

"What's the matter then?" Mom asked.

I started to get tears in my eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine. May I go to my room?"

"Sure." They both said.

I headed up to my room. I sat on my bed, looking around. I thought about Phil. I couldn't believe I didn't do anything about his siblings hitting him. I should've told someone.

Now I am lying in my bed at night, wide-awake. I just can't get those images of them hitting him, out of my head. I started crying myself to sleep.

We were walking home from school again, and this time when we go to his house, I'll stay and hide until he needs help. I don't want him getting hurt no longer. I would fight for him. He is my friend.

Phil was laughing once again, but as soon as we came to his house, he didn't want to go inside again. He hugged me tight and said, "No, Mattie, please come in with me. They won't do anything to me if I have a friend with me."

"But, I have to go."

"No." He cried. He stomped his little feet up and down.

"Sorry, little fellow."

Suddenly, someone swung open the door, making loud noises. They yelled, "Phil get in this house right now!"

Phil cried, "NO!"

"Don't make me come out there. If I do, I'll smash your head in the drawer and twist your arms and make you bleed!"

"NO! I hate you, step daddy!"

They came walking out the door, mad.

Phil hid behind me, crying. "Please, Matt, don't let him get me."

I whispered, "I won't. Don't worry."

They said, "What do you think you're doing, punk? Did I give you permission to hang out with my son!"

I didn't answer. I just picked up Phil and ran as fast as I could.

I heard them yell, "Hey, you can't run away with my child! That's kidnapping!"

I yelled back, "Well, you beat him! And it isn't right, you loser!"

I am glad that I had my cell phone in my pocket. I stopped and called the police. "Help! My friends' dad is trying to beat him again. The address is…" I got cut off when Phil's step dad jumped on my back and made me drop the cell. I fell to the ground. I tried to reach for the cell, but I couldn't because he sat on me and I couldn't get up. I figured if I couldn't pick up the cell, then I could still yell, because it's still on the line with them. "123 Deerhat road. The house is blue, and the yard has a lot of cars and junk in it." I hope that they heard me and be here soon.

I tried to get up. Phil was hiding behind a tree.

"Punk! Why are hurting my kid!"

I said, "I am not hurting Phil. He's my friend."

I tried to reach for my cell again, because it was a videophone and I could record him doing this to me. Maybe even record him beating Phil, so I could have some evidence that he does so.

"Get off me and I'll go home. I'll leave you and your son alone!" I said. I had a plan. Shh, it's secret.

He got off me, and I walked off, grabbing my cell.

"Better stay away, punk!" I seen his dad find Phil and dragged him by one ear, into the house.

I recorded that, and snuck back into the yard and up to the window, to recorded him. I got tears in my eyes while I watch him beat Phil. Then he got a knife from the kitchen and tried to poke Phil with it. Poor Phil was crying. I was also. But then he put down the knife and picked Phil up by one arm. He started slammed him down on the floor hard. Phil's nose and everything was so bloody.

"Step daddy, I really hate you!" Phil yelled as loud as he could.

Just then, I heard sirens. Yes, it was the police. They and I busted the door open. "Freeze," police said.

"I didn't do anything."

I jumped in and said, "Yes, you did. You hit Phil! I have it all on my cell."

The police was holding him back. One of them said to him, "Come on, you're coming with us." They put him in handcuffs and went to the cop car and threw him in.

I felt so relieved. I am glad that I called the police and not let it slide by. I was crying and holding Phil, like he was my own son.

So, Phil is fine. His parents are in prison for life and his siblings are in a foster home. Phil has a wonderful home, with wonderful parents. He also has a big sister and brother to look up to, and that is Lizzie and me Matt. Now, he's known as Phil McGuire.

_The only thing that ever made sense to me  
Is the sound of my little brother laughing  
Through the window of a summer night_

_I sit alone in the back yard  
Wishing I could be inside  
Just the sound of my little brother laughing  
Makes me happy just to be alive..._

THE END


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